


Head Over Heels

by WaxAgent



Series: Lovesong [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Consent, First Kiss, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor pining, NO UNDER AGE SEX, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Underage Drinking, cannon forgetting about the clown, eddie is clueless, he's just being richie, not shipping the actors, pennywise - Freeform, richie is not subtle, richie thinks he's dropping hints, shipping characters and storylines, the clown happened, the losers are all over eighteen, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaxAgent/pseuds/WaxAgent
Summary: Eddie has feelings for Richie, sure, whatever, and he plans on never doing anything about them.On his eighteenth birthday, Richie decides that he's got other plans.





	1. Nocturnal Me

Eddie Kaspbrak couldn’t really remember being fourteen. He knows that it happened, sure, in the same way that he knows that he was born once, wore a diaper once, probably shit up the back of his onesie once, too, even though he can’t recall it. He saw that whole year like trying to count grains of rice twelve inches under muddy water; it’s hard and it isn’t rewarding, and it probably doesn’t matter anyway.

He knew, instinctively, that their six count Losers’ Club used to be seven strong- Bev, Beverly moved away- and he occasionally gets the feeling that at one time, they were in danger of having zero members--

 

 _they held glass cut hands, stood in a circle and held a power between them strong enough to rock the core of the earth, they saved the world and stood on top, seven rough hewn sides of the same unbreakable diamond_  

 

\--but as soon as he tries to delve further back into being the big one-four, his memories wash out like over exposed film. It seemed so far behind him, that year, only actually five years ago. Sometimes Eddie wondered if any of his friends noticed the gaps that he felt whenever he looked back.

He asked Richie about it, once. “Hey,” Eddie had said. His heart raced and his lungs felt tight, his palms slick with sweat. “Do…do you ever remember that summer, when you were thirteen?”

Richie had looked over at him, fingers idly plucking at the strings of the guitar nestled in his lap. “Huh?”

“Do you…remember anything? It’s just,” Eddie had hesitated then, confidence slipping. “Sometimes I think about it. And I can’t remember it.”

Richie sucked his teeth, nodding absently. “Yeah. That’s the year you broke your arm?” Eddie nodded. “I mean…” Richie stopped, frowning, his fingers hovering over the guitar. “I remember that it happened,” he said slowly. “Not much about it. Maybe I was at the arcade?”

“You’re always at the arcade.”

“Thus, my point.” Richie had smirked at him and turned his attention back to his playing. His fingers were deft and Eddie watched him for a moment, mesmerized. “You worry too much, Eddie.”

But Richie had nightmares. Eddie saw it, over and over again, in the tell of his best friend’s body. He’d go taut during sleepovers, his body a rigid line of-

 

_terror, mortal, absolute, consuming terror_

 

-tension, and then he would spring up, covered in sweat and swearing, blindly groping for his glasses. He’d have excuses the next morning, it was Eddie’s house settling, that’s all, it startled him, but in the immediate aftermath he’d be open and vulnerable. “Sorry Eddie,” he’d mumble, lips tight, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“No sweat, Rich,” Eddie would promise. He’d lean over the edge of his bed (he took the bed, always, Richie took the floor just below) and flip on his nightstand lamp. The little puddle of yellow light it cast softened out the room. Richie would only be able to relax once the light was on and even then, it was a small measure. “Wanna play game gear?”

“It’s two in the morning, Eds.”

“Yeah, so? I wanna play.” Eddie would rub sleep from his eyes, sit up and stretch. “Come on Tozier, don’t be a turd.” He pretended it was nothing at all, but he always noticed the gratitude rolling off of his best friend in waves. It was small potatoes, anyway, whether it was game gear or reading comics or just spitting out of his second story window, whatever simple grace Eddie came up with to save Richie from his nightmares. Eddie knew that Richie would do it for him in turn a million times over if he ever had the chance.

They’d long outgrown sleeping together in Eddie’s tiny twin bed unless they wanted things to get weird, but they didn’t let that stop their sleepovers. They indulged at least once a week, and it was during these fortuitous events that Eddie found himself, well, noticing, for the first times. He was an uneasy sleeper and after he woke and puffed on his inhaler, he’d find himself gazing at his sleeping best friend and wondering when Richie’s fingers got so long, when did his cheekbones and chin develop, when did his stupid, chunky hair go soft and curly on the tips of his ears. In other words, who turned his best friend into a fucking _supermodel_ without asking Eddie’s permission?

He kept it bottled deep down, locked up tight. Richie was his best fucking friend, Chrissake, and so what if Eddie loved to look at him? Loved to hear him laugh and loved to watch him push up his glasses with those uncharacteristically elegant fingers, loved to imagine his lips on Richie’s neck and Richie’s hand between his legs?

 _Yikes_.

He wasn’t going to let it ruin their friendship. Before Richie was Eddie’s nighttime obsession, he was his best friend. They’d stood side by side for ten years. Eddie maybe loved him, yeah, okay, but he also loved him enough not to ruin what they had.

So he had his wet dreams and his fantasies at home by himself, and jacked off religiously before Richie slept over to avoid all potential embarrassment. Big fucking deal. He’d been half in love (half in perpetual exasperation) with Richie for years. Whatever weird hormones his body decided to throw at him, Eddie was fairly certain he could handle it.

It was worse this morning, Eddie would reason later, because Richie Tozier is exactly the kind of person to get up at the crack of dawn on his own birthday.

“Good morning sleeping beauty!” Richie crowed. He jumped onto his sleeping friend, sparing no thought for Eddie’s thin dignity.

“Ah!!” Eddie woke with a start and a gasp, right in the middle of one of his more _vivid_ dreams. “Jesus Christ Richie, get the fuck off of me!” He flushed and scrambled backwards. His forehead was coated in sweat and he throbbed between his legs, feeling cornered and desperate and still, somehow, almost there.

“Oooh,” Richie was all smiles and sunshine. He leaned in to rub his face in Eddie’s hair, destroying the smaller man’s obvious escape tactics. “Somebody was having nice dreams. About me? I hope they were about me.”

Eddie shoved Richie backwards and crammed a pillow over his own crotch, mortified and beet red. “Fuck off you piece of shit, I’m a healthy fucking teenager, Jesus tapdancing--“

“Aww, calm down Eds,” Richie grinned, wide and mischevious, and settled back on Eddie’s thighs. His dark curls haloed his pale, freckled face and his eyes were so bright, God, the sight of him made something deep inside of Eddie ache. “I didn’t say that I hated the view.”

“Beep, beep, Rich,” Eddie snapped. He turned to his nightstand and grabbed Richie’s glasses, handing them off after considering breaking them in his fist for only a second; a personal best. “It’s six thirty on a Saturday, you asshole, what the fuck?”

“It’s six thirty on the eighteenth anniversary of my life, Eddie, I am wounded,” Richie slapped a hand to his chest, his other surreptitiously adjusting his glasses.

“It’d still be your birthday in three more hours, dipshit. Hey wait, no, you can’t smoke in my room Richie!”

“Why not?” Richie’s voice was muffled behind the cigarette in his mouth. He flicked a lighter and puffed in and out, the tip of the cigarette smouldering under his attention.

“You know why not!”

“It’s my birthday Eddie!”

“I don’t care if it’s the fucking Rapture, put some pants on and sneak outside if you have to smoke,” Eddie grumbled. “It’s not even fucking light outside Rich, I’m going back to sleep. Don’t wake my mom.”

“So fucking bogus,” Richie said. The cigarette caught between his lips flopped out and hit the back of his hand and he hissed. “Fucking _ow_ , Jesus fuck me twice.”

“My point is proven. And don’t whine. Put that thing out, too,” Eddie rolled onto his side, snuggling deeper under his duvet. After a moment, he reached out and took Richie’s burnt hand. “I have burn cream in the bathroom. You want?”

Richie snorted. “Of course you do Eds. No, I’m gonna go sneak out and rub some dirt on it, then smoke. It’s cool.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose and dropped Richie’s hand like he’s been burned himself. “You’re disgusting.”

“Gonna rub it real deep too, get that good Mother Nature shit in my veins, get nice and healed, Baby Eds-“

“I’m sorry I offered!” Eddie hissed, yanking his blanket overhead. “Fuck you, fuck your burn, don’t call me Eds OR a baby, I’m goddamn older than you, you prick.”

Richie sucked his burnt hand, unable to hide his grin. “And jeepers, it don’t make you less cute. I like ‘em old. It’s why I keep coming for your mom. Eyyy!”

“That’s so fucking nasty, Richie.”

“Yeah, she loves it nasty. Move over,” Richie scooted closer and wiggled down, weaseling beside Eddie in the too-small space. “Quit being a blanket hog.”

“Get out of my bed, Richie.”

“Come on Ed, I don’t care about your morning wood.” Richie yanked Eddie’s blanket up and snuggled in. “I’m wounded out here, and you won’t let me smoke, and it’s my birthday, baby, gimme something.”

Eddie, for his part, reared back against the wall as far as he could get, stock still and wary. “You can stay if you let me sleep and if you stop talking about my dick and my mom, deal?”

“Deal,” Richie murmured. Eddie turned around to see his friend already burrowed down to sleep, his glasses crookedly smushed against the pillow. “It’s cold down there on the floor, Eds, too cold for a birthday boy.”

“Take your glasses off,” Eddie grunted. “You’ll roll your huge head and crush ‘em to bits, then what kind of birthday will it be.”

“Sure, in a sec. Do you think it’ll bug you, though?”

“Your glasses breaking? Not really, I warned you.”

“No,” Richie leaned in and Eddie felt his cheeks heat up in a repeat of his earlier flush. He tried to get back, realizing with a dawning horror that Richie already had him up against the wall.

“….Jesus, what? Will what bug me?”

“Being older than me?”

“What?” Eddie blinked. “I’ve literally always been older than you. Since the day of my actual birth.”

“Well, being older than me when I marry your mom,” Richie closed the gap between them, and Eddie felt rather than saw his best friend’s grin against his ear when Richie pressed their bodies together. He let out a choked gasp when Richie whispered to him, “Being older than me when you have to call me Daddy--“

“FUCK outta here!” Eddie shouted. He shoved Richie back. His face was lava hot. “Trashmouthpieceofshit.”

“Didn’t catch that, Eds, behind the boner! Did you mean to say, ‘Happy birthday Richard Tozier, you stud, he who surpasses all others in every way?’” Richie laughed, but his eyes were dark. Their hips were still touching, and Eddie would swear on a stack of bibles that Richie rolled his pelvis, just a little.

Eddie shivered. “No, I meant to tell you that I hope you have a very unhappy birthday, asswipe. For that bullshit you’re uninvited from your own fucking party.”

“That’s illegal,” Richie said breezily, rolling over onto his back “You can’t uninvite the guest of honor, it’s treasonous.”

“Treason, shmeason. Big Bill’s parents are out of town, bonfire in March, half the senior class is going, shame you can’t be there.”

“Eds, come on!”

“No, seriously, there’s gonna be booze and tunes and food,” Eddie hummed, “all of your best friends and everybody but you. Too bad, Trashmouth.”

“So you’re going, huh?” Richie brushed back a few of his stray curls absently.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “Wanna be my plus one?”

Richie’s resulting smile split his face. “Oh Eddie Spaghetti, I thought you’d never ask--“

“Psyche. Back on the floor.”

“Eddie!”

“Get out of my bed.”

“Don’t wound me so-“

“ _Floor_.”

 

* * *

 

Richie’s party that night was as raucous as the man himself, with one bonfire seeding into two and then three, spread out like beacons over the vast expanse of the Denbrough yard. The early March evening was crisp and sharp, and snow still coated the ground in a white blanket. Boozing high schoolers roamed the property and house, laughing and chatting and smoking.

“D-does anybody know the nuh-names of half of these people?” Bill asked, good-naturedly. He, Eddie, Stan and Mike were standing by the smallest of the three fires. “Don’t tell me that they all showed up for R-Richie.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you that,” Mike said. “And since I don’t know anybody but you guys, Ben, and the birthday boy, it’s honesty by proxy.”

Stan snorted, pulling a swig off of the bottle in his hand. “They came for a parentless house and a little alcohol, we’re the only ones here for Tozier.”

“I dunno,” Eddie said. He pulled his hat lower over his ears, “People like him.”

“Somehow,” Stan took another sip, “ _Somehow_ people like him. The people that don’t know him, somehow, sometimes like him.

“Nonetheless,” Eddie continued. “I feel like a lot of people really did come for him--“

“Just your mom!” Richie howled. He barreled over the divide between the Losers and the rest of the partygoers, throwing his arms over Stan’s shoulders and nuzzling into his curls. His glasses were crooked and he had an owlish grin. He was woefully underdressed for the mid-March weather in ripped jeans, chucks, and an old leather jacket. The edge of a black and grey flannel peaked out from his jacket hem, and his nose was red with the chill. “But youse can all come too, y’know, if you ask real nice.”

“Please, somebody help me,” Ben said lightly, strolling up behind Richie. “Because I can’t control him, even a little bit.”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Stan grunted, untangling himself from his reluctant friend. He moved closer to Mike, shoving at the birthday boy. “You smell like lighter fluid, get off.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely get off!”

“And regret,” Bill piped in. “L-Lighter fluid and regret.”

“The regret you’re smelling is vodka!” Richie said, swaying. “And the lighter fluid is, uh, lighter fluid.”

“Poor li’l Richie Tozier,” Mike said, and Richie finished unwinding himself from Stan to fold against Mike, smiling blissfully. Mike grinned back at him. He wrapped Richie in one of his arms. “The last one to turn eighteen, can’t even hold his regret.”

“The regret comes later, Mikey boyo,” Richie hiccuped. “Why aren’t you fellas mingling? You shoulda seen it, Ben was out there like a pro, mingling with all of the foxy ladies!” He elbowed Ben, who flushed and shook his head.

“Please, don’t think I was doing anything except babysitting you,” Ben said firmly. “He’s out of control. Somebody get that flask away from him.”

“Ben’s a gentleman,” Stan said. “If he’s ‘mingling’ with somebody that isn’t Beverly, it’s only to talk about books or to hold their hair back while they barf.”

“Gotta keep an eye on my boys,” Mike said sagely, indicating Bill and Stan. “Make sure nobody goes getting into trouble.”

“And if you want to get technical--“ Stan said.

“I really don’t,” Richie interrupted.

Stan glared, continuing. “If you want to get technical, we’re mingling with the only people we care to be with.”

“Uh,” Eddie said, and Richie’s eyes snapped to him.

“Eddie,” Richie said, awe in his voice, “all prettied up for my party, Eddie, _baby_ , who put you in a corner like this?”

Eddie flushed. “It’s hardly a corner, Rich, it’s a backyard.”

“Any corner without me is a corner!”

“You’re not even making the smallest amount of sense.”

“Oh Eddie Spaghetti, I’ll show you small. Hang on,” Richie pulled a flask out of his belt and took a sip. “I didn’t mean that.”

“R-Rich, you don’t have to tell us things that we already kn-know,” Bill grinned and held out his hand for the flask. “P-Pass it on.”

Ben sighed, long suffering.

Richie took another long, draining sip and handed the flask over the Bill. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ahh, careful Denbrough, that shit’ll put hair on your sac in two seconds flat.”

“What is it?” Mike asked. Bill took a small sip and pulled a nasty face, handing it around to Stan.

“D-Disgusting. I don’t think it’s vodka.”

“ _Hleech_ ,” Stan spat his mouthful onto the ground outside of their little circle. “Nasty, Richie, are you sure this isn’t the lighter fluid?” He shoved the alcohol in question into Mike’s waiting hand, nearly gagging. Mike sniffed it and raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, Mike!” Richie laughed. He staggered while standing totally still. “Sip up, my friend, cheerio!”

“I’m gonna pass,” Mike handed the flask back to Richie. “My loss, I guess.”

“Ben! Haystack!”

“I said no,” Ben said firmly. “About fifty times already.”

“Eddie! My main squeeze,” Richie purred and sidled up to the smallest of the group. “Sippy time.”

“No thanks.”

“Eds!! It’s my birthday, you soggy wet fart.” Richie pouted out his lips and pressed the cold metal flask against Eddie’s cheek. “Indulge me!" 

“I will not! Get that out of my face, it’s fucking freezing!”

“I swear to God, Eddie, I’ll jump into the fire if you don’t take some of this.”

“Eddie, now’s our ch-chance,” Bill said, a smile playing on his lips. “Our o-only chance to defeat him.”

Stan laughed around a mouthful of beer. “Yes, Eddie, if there is a God--“

“We all know Jews don’t believe in God, Stanley.”

“Richard, if you interrupt me one more Goddamn time--“

“Eddie! What’s a man gotta do to get you to have a little fun?” Richie whined, sinking to his knees. Stan scowled deeply behind him. Bill laughed and wrapped his arm around Stan’s waist. 

“Name your price, baby,” Richie rubbed his face against Eddie’s stomach. Eddie’s flush deepened. He frowned and shoved at his drunk friend. “Oh Eds, just like that, I love it when you pull my hair--“

“FINE,” Eddie snapped. He snatched the flask and downed the rest of it in a quick gulp. “Ugh, Richie, this is so nasty.”

“Mmm, I’m a nasty, nasty birthday boy,” Richie mumbled, nuzzling into Eddie’s belly again. “What are you wearing, Eddie, twenty layers?”

“Four layers, get up,” Eddie grunted and crouched to help lift Richie. “If you keep kneeling in the snow, you know, you’re much more likely to get arthritis as you age. I’m just saying.”

“Mmm,” Richie repeated his last mumble. “Hey, Eddie?” His voice was soft enough to startle all of the losers present. Everybody leaned in and listened; even Stan’s puckered frown loosened.

“Yeah?” Eddie looked up at his best friend with concern written into the furrow of his brow.

“Eds,” Richie whispered. He cupped the smaller man’s face in his hand and leaned down to cover the gap between them, pressing their foreheads together solemnly. Richie’s left thumb worked a soft circle against Eddie’s jaw, their eyes still locked. “I’m totally, like, three minutes away from vomming.”

Eddie turned puce, his throat working furiously. “V- _vomming_?!”

Richie nodded sagely, “Yeah, hella chunks.”

“Richie Tozier do _NOT THROW UP ON ME_.” Stan cracked another beer, the sound crisp and overshadowed by Mike’s howling laughter. “Somebody get this _MANIAC_ away from me!”

 

* * *

 

Richie finally stopped throwing up an hour and a half later. He’s stooped on the side of the Denbrough house, upchucking for dear life. Eddie knealt placidly beside him, occasionally murmuring encouragement.

“I should really go get you a water, Richie,” Eddie said.

“Don’t leave,” Richie groaned, gurgled, and spit to the side. Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I’m crashing.” Richie stood up and wobbled alarmingly. Eddie shot out both hands to catch him before the impending fall.

“Do NOT fall in your own barf, I swear to God I’ll leave your ass out here to freeze.”

Richie giggled. “I’d be such a Barfcicle. Lookitchu, getting off a good one.”

“We'll call that a team effort because I definitely wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Eddie made to pull Richie inside, but Richie’s full lips tightened into a stubborn line. He shook his head. “No.”

“What? It’s freezing out here, dude. Let me help you out, you threw up all over your chucks. There’s no way you can go back and party with everybody else now.”

“It’s fine,” Richie looked off to the side. “Just….maybe just walk me home? Yours?”

Eddie looked up at his best friend, eyebrows raised. “No boot and rally?”

“No. Take me home, Eds.”

“I have literally never been more proud of you.”

“I just want to roll around in your sheets without showering,” Richie grinned. “Get my stink all over my cute boy.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Oh, there you are. Thought I’d lost you.”

“Not on your life,” Richie flung his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and they staggered off, the snow crunching under their feet.

Eddie wrapped his arm around Richie’s waist and hauled him up straighter. “You’re really gonna Irish goodbye your own birthday party?”

“Hell yes, can’t think of a better way to go out.” Richie shivered. Eddie frowned.

“Hang on,” He stopped and pulled off his beanie, gently settling it over Richie’s wild hair. “There. You’re not going out. You drank too much of that shit vodka, you ralphed, and now you need a hot shower.”

“No, I mean,” Richie sniffled, wiping his nose and then waving his hand, tightening his other arm around Eddie. “Tonight, my exit. You know.”

“Sure. You want my coat too?”

“Nah, but I’m glad you live close, Eddie baby, my feet are icicles.”

“Converse chucksicles,” Eddie grinned in spite of himself, listening to Richie snicker.

“Actual, literal barfsicles.” Eddie laughed and hugged Richie closer to his side. They fell into a serene silence. Their breaths puffed out in front of them as they trudged down the last block to the Kaspbrak home. Snow had started to fall, and Eddie relished in his stolen glances upwards; stars and streetlights, snowflakes settling in the wild curls of his best friend’s hair that peeked out from underneath his loaned hat. His throat stuck and he had to look ahead, blinking rapidly for the rest of the way to his house.

“I want to climb up your lattice,” Richie announced, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Eddie’s house. “Lemme.”

“No,” Eddie said firmly, “You’ll break every bone in your body and my mom will wake up, kill you, and never let me outside again. We’re going to walk in the front door, quietly, and go upstairs. Then you can crash.”

“Hmm, or, I do what I want, and you deal…because it’s my birthday.”

“Richard. It’s not your birthday anymore. It’s after midnight.”

“It’s still my birthday weekend, _Edward_!”

“Shhh,” Eddie hissed. He glanced behind him to make sure that no lights had come on. Sure, Sonia was a deep sleeper, but Richie had a yell that could pierce the time-space continuum. “Please, Richie, be decent.”

“Alright here, how about a compromise,” Richie’s hands found Eddie’s hips and he pulled him in. “I’ll sneak in, very good of me, too, and then I get the bed tonight. And a birthday kiss.”

“Richie, it’s my room,” Eddie stopped himself and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whatever. Fine. I’m fucking freezing, let’s just get inside. It’s useless to argue with you like this.”

“But the cold gives you this cute little red nose!”

“Don’t call me cute,” Eddie snapped. “And be quiet, please.”

They go inside quickly and (mercifully) silently. Eddie shoved Richie in front of him and they crept up the stairs together, closing the door to the landing behind them. Eddie can hear his mother in the living room, snoring softly in her recliner in front of the muted TV. He felt a twist in his gut and shoved his guilt down: it would kill her, him sneaking in like this. Or, she would kill him. He didn’t really know which was worse.

“Okay,” Eddie said, once they’re enclosed in the safety of his room. Shuddering, he started shedding his layers of outerwear. “Shower.”

“But I’m so sleepy!”

“You can go to sleep after you shower, Jesus, did you even look at your shoes?” Richie frowned and looked down at his soaking wet sneakers. They were nearly frozen. “If you don’t warm up you’ll start to lose your body parts, starting with your smallest.”

“And we all know how much you’d miss that one,” Richie grinned, and then stopped. “Hang on. Oh, fuck oooooooff,” Richie groaned over the sound of Eddie’s snickering. “Can’t a man be drunk on his birthday,” he left in a huff, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Eddie chuckled again, flopping back onto his bed. He toed off his winter boots and let them sit on the floor, and peeled off his pants. Vaguely, he can still feel Richie’s hands on his hips, his arm slung around Eddie’s shoulders. He shivered and pulled the blankets up over himself, snuggling deep into the inviting warmth of his mattress to wait for Richie in his shirt and underwear. He must have dozed off, because in the next instant Richie was kneeling by the bed, running one hand through Eddie’s hair. He was clothed but his hair was soaked through and his cheeks were pleasantly flushed. “Hey babe,” Richie murmured. “Sleep tight.”

“Sorry,” Eddie yawned. “Guess I fell asleep. Climb in,” he moved back, flattening himself against the wall. “I told you that you could have the bed and I’m not sleeping on the fucking floor. You know how bad that is for my asthma?”

Richie hesitated. “You sure, Eds?”

“Not if you keeps calling me Eds.” Eddie patted the empty spot beside him.

Richie stood up and shucked his jeans. His hands went to the hem of his shirt, but he left it on, seeming unsure. He clambered into the bed. “You cozy comfy, Eddie?” 

“I’m something alright. Get the light.” Richie set his glasses on the nightstand and flipped the switch of the little desklamp while Eddie rolled around to face the wall. Something pleasantly sated and warm settled in his chest at the feeling of the comfortable weight behind him. It was peaceful. “Night, Richie. Happy birthday.”

“G’night Eddie,” Richie said. He set his hand on Eddie’s hip, spooning up behind him. “Hey, uh, about that birthday kiss?”

Eddie could almost hear the world itself screech to a half. “What?” Richie didn’t answer him, just hummed in response. The hand on Eddie’s hip was a brand, searing heat through his briefs. Richie’s thumb rubbed circles and Eddie was starting to get dizzy with it. “What?” He asked again, unsure of his voice. “I know you were joking outside, Richie.” He pauses for a long moment, staring resolutely into the wall. Richie’s hand was still on his hip. “Just go to sleep.”

“I, uh,” Richie cleared his throat. Eddie could feel his warm breath on the back of his neck. “Roll over.”

“What?”

“Maybe I’m not joking,” Richie murmured. “Maybe I….Eds, just roll over.”

Eddie felt like his head was going to explode. He rolled over, and Richie pulled him closer, slowly. He pressed his lips to Eddie’s cheek. Eddie let out a shaky sigh, and felt Richie’s hand travel to the small of his back, and then Richie was kissing him again, a whole trail of little pecks, from Eddie’s cheek down to his jaw and his mouth was hot on Eddie’s neck, warm and soft and slightly open, and he was pulling Eddie closer until their bodies were flush against each other and Eddie felt so _hot_.

“Richie,” Eddie whispered. He brought his hands up and pulled Richie even closer, his small fingers winding into the faded fabric of his best friend’s ratty Joy Division shirt. Richie started sucking on the brunette’s neck and Eddie whined, his hips twitching. “What are you _doing_?”

Eddie felt Richie smile against his neck. “Exactly what you think I’m doing,” he murmured, raising his head back up so that his forehead pressed against Eddie’s. “Is it okay? This? I mean--”

“Yes,” Eddie rushed. Richie grinned, leaning in. “Oh, fuck.” Eddie swore, looked up into Richie’s wide brown eyes, took in the incredibly charged expression on his face and sighed. “Pause, Rich.”

“What?”

“No,” Eddie said, sweeping a hand over his warm face. “No, no. It’s not okay. _Shit_.”

Richie’s hands were off of Eddie in a flash. “Woah, Eddie, I’m-“

“Drunk,” Eddie finished firmly. His heart was racing. “You’re drunk, and…I don’t want to be your first real grown up fuck just because you’re wasted. Okay?”

Richie was aghast. “No,” he said, letting his hands settle back down on Eddie’s shoulders. “That isn’t the way that I feel about you.”

“Then prove it,” Eddie said firmly. “Some other time. Sober.”

“Yeah,” Richie said. He was still for a moment and then he crushed Eddie against him in a hug, arms tight around the smaller man’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he repeated. “I’d like the chance to prove it over and over, to be honest.” He dropped a firm, sweet kiss into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie felt like his heart was going to explode. “Just shut up and go to sleep,” he whispered. He wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist and pressed his face against the man’s chest. “Drunk ass birthday bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! This is my first foray back into writing in many moons. I have always loved the novel It and with all of the hype around the movie release and all of the new fans I figured this would be a great time to jump back in. 
> 
> I have a good 125 pages of this series written thus far, so I'll just be tightening up and editing and posting! 
> 
> I'm excited to be here. Please let me know where you want this to go; I have a firm idea of the arc of the whole thing, but I'd like to hear from ya'll so that I can craft the best possible story and make everybody happy. 
> 
> Can't wait to hear from you guys!


	2. Close to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wake up, right where they left off.

Eddie woke the next morning with his head bowed forward against the wall. He was cold there, pressed against the plaster, but the rest of him was cloaked in the comfortable body heat of Richie Tozier. He sighed and rolled over, bringing his duvet up snugly underneath his chin. Richie was awake behind him, and Eddie was pressed so close to him, so suddenly, that there was barely any room to breathe.

“G’morning, Richie,” He murmured. It was still very dark outside, the edges of his room illuminated in the sly blue light of the early dawn. Richie looked porcelain against his pillow, eyes soft and half lidded.

“Hey,” Richie whispered, his voice sleep rough. “My bad if I woke you. I’m thinking loud.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s okay. I woke on my own.” Richie nodded. He raised a hand and rubbed back through Eddie’s hair. Eddie felt his lips part, unbidden. The action was tender and romantic.

“You talk in your sleep,” Richie said softly. “It’s cute.”

“Don’t call me cute,” Eddie said. "Sep--"

“I’m sober,” Richie whispered. His eyes were serious. “Thanks, for last night, but I…It’s like, seven, and I slept it off. So--“

“You remember, then,” Eddie said. Richie slid his fingers out of Eddie’s hair and nodded.

“I think I ralphed out most of it, before we got back,” Richie admitted. “I actually blacked out for the whole second half of the party. But after I vommed, it’s all still in there.” He grinned and pressed his nose to Eddie’s. “You were worried I’d forget?”

“Shut up,” Eddie said. The closeness between them was nothing new, but this morning Eddie felt like he could drown in it. “I was worried you’d pickled your brain, actually.” He huffed, feeling reticent. “So if you want to take it back, that’s fine. You were awfully drunk--”

“I want to kiss you more than I did yesterday, actually.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, eyes wide. He steeled himself. “Okay. So…”

“This is the part,” Richie said, his voice low. “Where you tell me to quick dragging my dick and kiss you.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. His heart was racing. “Okay. Shut up, and do whatever you just said.” He pressed himself against Richie’s front, and Richie dipped his head. They kissed softly. Richie’s lips were chapped and parted against his. Eddie breathed softly and tilted his head when Richie cupped his cheek, his fingertips just lightly brushing the shell of Eddie’s ear.

“Mmm,” Richie broke off, pressing another chaste kiss to Eddie’s bottom lip. “That was your first kiss, huh.” It wasn’t a question; they both knew the truth.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Not yours.”

“No,” Richie agreed. “Not mine. Do you mind?”

“No,” Eddie said, and he didn’t. “Just kiss me again, Rich.” Richie made a soft sound and obliged, bringing Eddie even closer. Eddie’s eyes slid shut as their lips met, Richie’s hand on his face and the touch of their mouths the only things keeping Eddie from untethering and floating away. Richie tasted like stale mint and nicotine, and he smelled like Eddie’s honey body soap and they were _kissing_. Eddie’s lips were tingling and he tilted his head, trying to get closer, and Richie licked a gentle swipe across his bottom lip. Eddie opened his mouth for him, gasping into their kiss. 

Richie licked into Eddie’s mouth slowly, tasting him, and Eddie’s hands flew to Richie’s shoulders. He squeezed, encouraging, and let himself fall deeper into their embrace. Richie’s free hand found it’s way to Eddie’s stomach, his fingers twisting into the fabric of the smaller man’s shirt. He tugged Eddie in and up and suddenly, Eddie was on top of the taller man. He gasped and sat back, eyes wide, his hands splayed across Richie’s abdomen. “Richie,” he said. Errantly, he rubbed his fingers against Richie’s middle, feeling dazed and almost too warm.

“To be honest, I’ve always wanted to see you looking down at me like this,” Richie grinned, setting his hands on Eddie’s thighs. He was flushed. “Looking good, Kaspbrak.”

“Don’t say ‘always’ like that,” Eddie groused, cheeks red. “You don’t look good, you look like a fucking mess.”

“I really dig your pillow talk, man,” Richie laughed. He did look a mess; Richie was a sleepy wild thing, his hair frizzed out, cheeks pink and eyes wide. The early morning light cast him in a way that softened all of the angles of his face and he seemed to glow in it, eyes warm and kind, his body pliant underneath Eddie’s. “Come back down to Earth, you literal angel. Give this mere mortal another one of your blessed smooches.”

“Oh my God,” Eddie groaned. He slid his hands forward, laying flat on top of Richie. “You are so corny.”

“Yeah, and I’ll give you the whole cob.”

“Never mind,” Eddie said. He tried to get up but Richie held him tight, cackling. “Nope. Absolutely fucking not, Richie, you’re the WORST.”

“You want some wurst, huh, babe?”

“STOP, please, for the love of--“

“You keep walking into it!”

“I’ll walk right the fuck out of bed and you’ll walk right the fuck home.”

“Eddie,” Richie said seriously. “How can I walk anywhere? I’m trapped under one hundred and forty pounds of a hot fucking nineteen year old? Every man’s dream.” Eddie flushed. He felt Richie’s hands on his back, the long digits rubbing between his shoulder blades.

“You know this is cheating,” Eddie mumbled, inching up. He stopped, nose to nose with Richie, unable to ignore the man’s hands moving ever lower on his back, pushing lightly under the hem of his shirt. “You can’t say stupid shit and give me a back rub and expect me to stay and listen to more stupid shit.”

“Just watch me,” Richie grinned. He leaned up and captured Eddie’s lips, bringing one hand back up underneath Eddie’s shirt to stroke the warm skin between his shoulder blades. “And besides, I don’t really hear you arguing.”

“Well, I’m not saying that it doesn’t feel good,” Eddie groaned. The hand on his lower back roamed lower still, squeezing his ass firmly. He gasped and Richie looked up at him, eyes half lidded. “It’s okay?” He asked. Eddie nodded, not trusting his voice. He raised his hands up and wrapped his fingers into Richie’s messy hair, tugging lightly as they kissed again. It was Richie who gasped this time, twitching and groaning beneath Eddie. He rolled his hips experimentally and Eddie whimpered, giving Richie’s hair another light pull. Richie grabbed Eddie’s ass in both hands, using his leverage to rock them together slowly, just testing. “I’ve wanted to touch you,” Richie started and stopped, punctuating his words with steadily deepening kisses. “I’ve wanted you, Eddie.” Eddie whined and ground his hips down and back, riding his best friend’s lap, encouraged by his honest admission. “Jesus Eds, make that little noise again.”

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed into Richie’s mouth, the words almost swallowed up by their panting and soft moans. “You drive me crazy,” Richie squeezed with both hands, kneading his ass, and Eddie, unable to help himself, threw back his head and moaned, loud and high. “Jesus, _fuck_ , yes.”

“Just Richie is fine, thanks,” Richie grinned, lips swollen, and jerked his pelvis up to meet the brunette’s, eliciting another breathy moan. “Mmm, what a pretty picture you are. You feel so nice, Eds.”

“Yeah, and you feel huge,” Eddie sighed, lost in the motion of their rocking hips. Richie froze below him, speechless and gaping, eyes wide and dark. They stayed still for a moment, and then Richie buzzed to life with a ragged moan, flipping Eddie over onto the bed and settling between his thighs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Richie ground out.

“Ah!” Eddie squeaked when he hit the bed. He groaned when Richie kissed him ferociously, wrapping his legs low around the other’s hips.

Richie sat up and yanked his glasses off of the nightstand. He crammed them onto his red face and returned his attentions instantly to Eddie. “Don’t want to miss a single second,” he explained, re-attaching his lips to Eddie’s neck. “I wanna see exactly how you come apart for me, Eddie.”

“Richie--“ Eddie was interrupted when Richie dove up and sealed their lips together. “Mmph!” Richie licked back into Eddie’s mouth with a zealous fervor that made Eddie feel like he was going to be devoured from the top down.

“I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard,” Richie said, between kisses, “that you’re gonna forget my _fucking name_.” He hauled Eddie’s legs up higher around his waist and sunk his left hand between them, gripping Eddie through his briefs.

“Ah!,” Eddie through his head back, eyes squeezed shut. His whole sense of self had shot down from his lips to his dick, all of his focus centered between his legs, trapped under Richie’s cradling hand. “Oh _fuck_ ,” he gaspsed, arching his back to press more of himself into Richie’s hand.

“This okay?” Richie asked softly. His long fingers danced along the center of Eddie’s desire, nudging the fabric of his underwear. “It feels okay, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Eddie panted. “Please stop teasing me, fuck, _please_.”

Richie laughed, sliding Eddie’s underwear down on his thighs. “Wait for the begging until I really get down to business.” He eyed Eddie up and down, pupils blown. Eddie flushed, bare hips rocking with Richie’s slow grip. “You looked so wrecked, Eddie.”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up for two seconds--“ It didn’t even take one second for Richie to shimmy down and pull Eddie’s dick into his mouth, deep. “Jesus fuck,” Eddie’s eyes snapped open and he looked down, shocked and turned on in totally equal measures. Richie Tozier’s curly head was in his lap, bobbing, sucking Eddie down like he was starving for him. “Oh, _fuck me_ , Richie, oh my _God_.” Richie hummed, and Eddie felt one of his friend’s hands push his thighs apart farther. He obliged, letting his legs fall all of the way open and grabbed Richie’s wandering hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing. Richie was grinding his own hips into the sheets, grunting and moaning around Eddie’s swollen prick, coming back up for breath after a few deep plunges. He wiped his mouth with his free hand and then set it to work, jacking Eddie off like a bonafide pro.

“You gonna come for me, Eds?” Richie’s hand on Eddie was slick and tight and Eddie whimpered and nodded, feeling his stomach tighten, a hot coil of pleasure shooting from Richie’s hand on his cock to the tips of his fingers and toes. Richie surged u and pressed their linked hands into the bed above Eddie’s head. They rutted their hips together, Eddie’s moans increasing in volume and pitch until Richie sealed their mouths together and tightened his hand to an almost sinful degree, grunting through his nose as his body went taut and tight, his spasming pelvis locked down on Eddie’s. Eddie whimpered into his mouth, his voice peaking and quitting on him as he came, hips tilted up into his best friend’s, lost in a world of their linked hands and pressed mouths.

“Eddie,” Richie whispered, rubbing their noses together. “Eddie.” Eddie groaned, warm and loose. He arched up against his friend, licking along Richie’s bottom lip. “You’re so fucking hot, Eds, my God.”

“Mmhm,” Eddie agreed, grinning. Richie laughed, and they kissed deeply. “Mmn,” Eddie broke apart, kissing Richie chastely. “How does eighteen feel? Pretty good track record you have so far.”

Richie grinned devilishly, sliding his hips over Eddie’s before he lowered his hands to tuck Eddie back into his soiled briefs. Eddie shivered. “Eighteen feels pretty fucking _huge_ , my man.”

Eddie went beet red. “Shut up.”

“I’m too huge to shut up, babe,” Richie let out a low whistle, leaning back to kneel over Eddie’s spent body. He adjusted his glasses, and then his cock, wiping his hand off on his bare thigh. “Aren’t I just driving you crazy?” He grabbed himself salaciously. Eddie’s lips parted as he looked up at Richie, half annoyed and half _deeply_  aroused.

“We’re just going to have to establish some sort of off limits rule,” Eddie grunted after a long moment of watching his best friend fondle himself. “For the things that I say when you’ve got your hands or mouth on my dick.”

Richie beamed, flopping back down to snuggle beside Eddie. “So you’re looking for a repeat?”

“Maybe,” Eddie said with a casual air that he hoped was hiding the rolling emotions he was feeling. “I mean, you weren’t half bad.”

Richie pulled Eddie in closer, pressing his lips to the smaller man’s mussed brunette hair. “Because I want one,” he murmured. “A repeat.”

“If you behave,” Eddie grinned. He felt brand new under Richie’s warm touch.

Richie’s hands shifted around Eddie, straightening his t-shirt and smoothing out his wild hair. “This is real,” he said. His smile was so bright that it made Eddie’s heart flutter.

“Not just real,” Eddie said. “Really real.”

Richie ran the back of his knuckles over the side of Eddie’s cheek and hummed thoughtfully. “Really real,” Richie murmured. He dipped his head to kiss Eddie. “Hey, can I borrow your tape deck?”

“Right now?”

“Well, today,” Richie cleared his throat. “I wanna make a mixtape of all of those little moans and sighs and sounds you make to give a copy to your mom.” He smirked, nuzzling his face into Eddie’s neck. “I think she could use a little inspiration.”

“Oh, _disgusting_ ,” Eddie groaned, sitting up. His briefs starting to dry against him, sticky and uncomfortable, so he tugged them off casually. Richie’s gaze flicked down to Eddie’s crotch and legs, uncovered. His freckled cheeks went pink. “Hey, that’s a really good way to kill the mood. Bring up my mother, in bed.”

“Hey, that’s a GREAT way to enhance the mood,” Richie parroted. “Talk about your mom with your cock out like that. I swear I’m almost there.”

“Keep it up,” Eddie warned. He shoved Richie aside and crawled over him to get out of the bed. “Fucking keep at it Richie, see how far it gets you.”

“Don’t snark,” Richie laughed. Prone, still, he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist from behind when the smaller man stood. “It’s my birthday weekend.” He dotted a few kisses down the base of Eddie’s spine, ending with a loud one on his left butt cheek. Eddie shivered.

“Come on,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s get up.” Richie hummed and stands, squeezing Eddie tightly once before releasing him. Eddie couldn’t stop the wide smile that blossomed across his face as he watched Richie sit up and stretch with a grateful groan. The thin man had his hands craned high above his head and his eyes closed in an expression of great and peaceful relief. He sighed after a moment, dropped his arms and rolled his neck and stood, adjusting his twisted boxers around his thin hips. Eddie’s eyes were drawn to the slip of skin revealed in between Richie’s shirt and his shorts; a pale, tantalizing cut of flesh.

“I’m, uhm,” Eddie cleared his throat, smiling still. “I’m going to go and shower.”

“Okay,” Richie said. He dug through his near forgotten backpack and fished out a pair of clean jeans. They were ratty at the cuffs and threadbare, full of rips and holes. Eddie felt his heart clench. “I’m gonna rummage through your comics.”

“Sure,” Eddie slipped on a pair of sweatpants and grabbed a few clean articles of clothing. “You gonna shower after? I’ll save you half the hot water.”

“Nah, I showered last night.”

“Richie. You’re covered in jizz. Two people’s jizz. _Please_ fucking shower.”

“We’ll see,” Richie waved him off, grinning, already buried in Eddie’s comics. “Oh shit, actually, I want to look through your vinyl.”

Eddie chuckled in spite of himself. “You’re so fucking nasty, dude. Don’t get anything on my records.” He opened the door and closed it behind him, navigating the dark upstairs hallway with muscle memory. His heart did a funny pump and practically dropped down into his stomach when he heard firm footsteps approaching behind him.

“Eddie Bear,” his mother said from the stairwell, and Eddie turned towards her, ashen. “I didn’t hear you boys come in last night.”

“We got home late,” Eddie mumbled. He looked up and off to the left. He almost never looked at his mother, not directly. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Sonia pursed her lips. “Who’s in there with you?”

“R-Richie. It was his birthday yesterday, I told him that he could stay another night.”

“Without asking?”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said. And he was, suddenly, deeply sorry, shame burning behind his eyes. Sonia looked at him for a moment longer and Eddie is suddenly, painfully sure that every single instant from yesterday night until now is written all over him in bold, block letters--

_I KISSED A BOY IN YOUR HOUSE I LET A BOY SUCK MY DICK, MOMMY, I LET RICHIE TOZIER JERK ME OFF AND I FUCKING LOVED IT_

\--but Sonia just smiled thinly at him. “You boys slept in. I didn’t want to wake you for church. I’m leaving for service now, and you’ll go on Wednesday to make it up.”

“O-Okay, Mama.”

“Such a good boy, Eddie,” Sonia walked up to him and Eddie looked down at her. At five-foot-six he’s taller than his mother now and has been for a few years, but she still looms before him, larger than life. Even Richie, who’s pushing six-two, doesn’t feel so tall to him as she does. “I love you.”

“You too,” Eddie said quickly. He kissed her on the cheek and darted into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. It took him a few minutes of steady, calm breathing before he can step into the shower without shaking.

* * *

After they’re both showered- Richie at Eddie’s exasperated insistence- Eddie gave Richie his birthday gift. It’s a few things, nothing crazy special, and it pales in the wake of their morning adventures in getting to know the insides of each other’s mouths; a record from The Cure and a new flannel, a lighter, and about twenty-five dollars of arcade tokens. He’s scribbled his birthday greetings on the back of his own senior school picture in lieu of a card. He looks dumb in it, he wore a suit at his mother’s unyielding insistence, but the two of them have always done cards this way and who is Eddie to buck tradition?

Eddie felt silly handing over a pile of unwrapped trinkets to Richie, but when he did, brows furrowed and cheeks bright red, all Richie did was smile and look at him like he’d hung every single heavenly body in the fucking sky. “Shit!” Richie whooped, picking Eddie up and spinning him around. “Thank you, Eddie. You’re the coolest dude this side of the Mississippi.”

Eddie laughed, feet dangling. He rubs his face into Richie’s hair. “Don’t thank me, dude, it’s your birthday. Enjoy.”

“Sure will,” Richie puts Eddie down and tugs off his old green sweatshirt, pulling on his brand new flannel immediately. It’s a dusty, light red- _Pink_ , Richie will insist, _light salmon_ , Eddie will argue. It’s isn’t even buttoned before he pulls Eddie to his bare chest, kissing him. Eddie sighed into the kiss, his stomach doing excited flips. He fingers work Richie’s buttons closed for him.

“Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie glowed, his eyes dancing behind his glasses. “Doing his part to keep street urchins like me warm and cozy for the good of America.”

Eddie blushed. “You’ve given me better birthday presents, it’s nothing. Plus, it’s not all,” he picked up his jacket from the ground, and threw it over his shoulders. “We’ve got a communal surprise for you.”

“Sounds sexy,” Richie wiggled his eyebrows, throwing on his old leather coat. Eddie pulled a face as Richie tugged on his completely nasty but dry sneakers. “Is it going to be sexy?”

“It’s a little sexy, depending on what you’re into.”

“You,” Richie said lightly, tying his shoes. “I’m into you. In case you missed my hints.”

Eddie’s blush deepened and he scuffed a foot against the ground, suddenly very interested in his socks. “It only has anything to do with me in the cosmic sense.”

“Well, I’ll prepare myself to be monumentally disappointed,” Richie straightened up and extended his hand.

“U-uh,” Eddie stammered. “When we get outside, maybe, okay?” Richie blinked, and comprehension dawned across his face. He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Richie said smoothly. “I don’t want your mom to get jealous of us either.”

“Shut the fuck up. Can we just go? We’re already late.”

“It’s my birthday, and things are gonna run by my clock, Kaspbrak,” Richie chuffed his hip against Eddie’s.

“Oh my God, shut up, it’s not your fucking birthday anymore.”

“Then why on Earth are we doing birthday related adventures?” Richie said loudly. “Face it, we’re in a Groundhog Day loop of my birthday. And I _love_ it.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Eddie said. They jogged down the stairs. Richie’s footfalls were obnoxiously loud in spite of his thin shoes as he raced ahead of Eddie. Eddie wished that it didn’t make him smile but, he figured as he vaulted over the last creaky step in the stairs, some things he just couldn’t control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowwee wow! Thanks for all of the amazing feedback. I had this baby ready to go, so enjoy it extra early! 
> 
> Li'l note:
> 
> I HC Eddie older than the other Losers. He's about nineteen and a half to most of their eighteen. I just can't imagine a life where he didn't miss at least one grade due to Sonia pulling him out for being so sick all the time.
> 
> Cheers! xoxo


	3. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

Richie and Eddie walked down the street, their shoulders brushing, chatting amiably. When they were about a block and a half away from where Sonia was settled in to spend a Sunday watching her soaps, Richie took Eddie’s hand and laced their fingers together. Eddie smiled up at him, and Richie squeezed his hand. He felt a thin, ropy scar stretching the length of Richie’s palm, pressed into his own. How funny, Eddie thought, that Richie should have a scar so similar to one that he himself had gotten as a young teen. Another one of the strange and wonderful coincidences that made up the fabric of his life, he figured. It was partly cloudy out and threatening snow, but warmer than yesterday. Eddie looked at the ice tipped barren trees and breathed in the crisp air. He tightened his hand on Richie’s and felt warm, inside and out.

“I thought you hated winter,” Richie said. He swung their hands and jiggled Eddie’s arm, fascinated by their linked hands.

“Yeah, so?”

“You just got this big ol’ grin, that’s all.”

“Well,” Eddie said. He squeezed Richie’s hand. “Maybe I’m happy.”

Richie beamed at him. “So, okay. Where’s this mystery bash?” Richie asked. “What am I in for? Is it a stripper? A stripper in a cake?” He blinked thoughtfully. “You in a cake?”

“It’s at Bill’s,” Eddie said. “And how can it be me in a cake if I’m still right here?"

“It’s you in a cake, naked,” Richie grinned. “Knew it. Ooh! You’ve got a twin, and you’re both naked in the cake?”

“Incest is not a sexy punchline, Richard.”

“You’re making out with your twin in the cake?”

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“And I can join? Wow,” Richie sighed, put upon. “I’ve never even met your twin, Eddie, this is really sudden. I just don’t know.”

“Hang on,” Eddie said. “Are you…are you trying to get me to let you make out with me and my fictional twin?”

“…Yes?”

“Hmmm,” Eddie paused. “No. No thanks. My twin and I are doing fine without you.”

Richie glared, pouting his lips. “...Your twin is hotter than you.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Seriously, I like how he looks more like your mom than you do.”

“Richard.”

“Oh, is it--“ Richie stopped dead, hand slackening in Eddie’s. Eddie followed his gaze.

She’s down the street at Bill Denbrough’s cheery white mailbox and she’s bright and beautiful like a sunrise. Eddie almost can’t believe that he didn’t see her before Richie because, honestly, how could anybody miss her? Her hair is a stylish pixie and as the two boys gawk, she lifts up a bejeweled hand and waves at them. Bracelets clack on her wrist, and an uncut key still hangs around her throat, gleaming in the weak winter sunlight.

“Beverly,” Richie whispered. He was starstruck. “You guys got Bev? She’s back?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, Rich, for a few days,” he said. His throat felt tight, and he had to clear it to continue. “We wanted to surprise you because you were in Indiana when she came last time. Happy birthday.”

“Oh my God,” Richie breathed. Without hesitation, he was running full tilt down the side walk, catching a laughing Beverly in his arms and kissing all over her face. Eddie watched him go, smiling. The Losers had a connection that ran between each of them, soul deep. It was a tethering force, bigger than any of them on their own, and it defied explanation; seeing Beverly settled something in Eddie that he didn’t know was misplaced. He walked towards them, letting Richie and Bev enjoy their moment. The two of them had always had this strange kinship, soul siblings born from different parents. Everything about them matched; from their music tastes, to their cigarettes, right down to their identical, filthy sneakers.

“Baby,” Richie said. He grabbed Eddie when he got close and yanked the smaller man into his arms, crushing him against Beverly. “Eddie, baby!” He swung them both around haphazardly, alternating whose face he was smushing his lips against with every lurch of his arms.

“Beep beep, Rich! Put me down!” Bev laughed. She wrapped her arms around Eddie in a secondary hug and kissed him on his forehead. Eddie kissed her back, catching the corner of her lips, and watched her eyes glow radiantly with joy. Richie’s lips grazed his temple and he giggled, drunk on being _together_.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” Richie said over and over. He let them both down, beaming. “Beverly. Fucking _Beverly_ fucking _Marsh_.” He rubbed Beverly’s short hair with both hands. She grinned at him and pinched his nose.

“Hey, Richie fucking Tozier,” Bev said. “How’s it hanging?”

“Long and hard,” Richie couldn’t stop smiling. He picked Eddie up again, and absently kissed the smaller man’s shoulder when it leveled with his face. “You?”

“To the ground,” Bev said. She saluted. “How’re you doing Eddie? You look great.”

Eddie blushed and grinned. He rested his head on top of Richie’s. “I’m great, Bev. You’re looking pretty fucking good yourself.”

Bev giggled and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. She lit one, puffing on the end thoughtfully. “It’s great to see you,” she said. “I was gonna visit sooner or later, but Eddie convinced me to come for your birthday, Richie. The big one-eight. How’s it feel?”

 “Beverly,” Richie said, his tone unusually somber. He patted her shoulder; Eddie cradled up in his other arm, his legs thrown loosely around Richie’s hips. “It feels fucking _huge_.”

“Trashmouth,” Eddie groaned. He shoved Richie’s laughing face away. “Has anybody told you to shut the fuck up today?”

“Just your mom, I’m chatty in bed,” Richie purred, rubbing his nose into Eddie’s hair. Eddie laughed and pushed at him harder.

“You’re so fucking gross, Jesus Christ, why do I even hang out with you?”

Beverly watched their back and forth, a bemused smile on her face. “Stop, stop,” she chided, holding out her cigarette. Richie leaned in, taking a drag.

“So,” Bev said mildly, holding her cigarette to Richie’s lips. “How long has this been going on?”

Richie and Eddie looked at each other. Eddie shrugged. “Iunno,” Richie said. “I’ve been smoking for maybe three years? Deffo started after you moved. Maybe three and a half?”

“I’m trying to help him quit,” Eddie piped in. “I’m really not doing very well.”

“You should try offering me incentives!”

“You’re a fucking menace. Your incentive is to avoid lung cancer.”

Beverly blinked. She gently took her cig back. “No, I mean…you two. How long have you two been like this?”

“What?”

“Like,” she gestured “How long have you been dating? You just,” she paused, eyebrows furrowed. “Am I wrong? You just seem different. Together.”

Richie sputtered and almost dropped Eddie.

Eddie, for his part, went beet red and made a strange sort of gurgling sound. “We- we’re not, that is to say- it’s, we just--“

“We aren’t,” Richie said swiftly, recovering. He set Eddie down. “We--”

"We aren't together," Eddie said in a rush. "It's just...this is the way he is." He looked up at the taller man; Richie was staring straight ahead, nostrils flared. His eyes were blank and his eyebrows were furrowed.

Beverly blinked. “Oh.”

“We've always been touchy feely like that,” Eddie explained, straightening his hat.

“Yessir,” Richie said. His voice was a little too loud and a little too bright. “You know me, Bevvie, Richie "Handsy" Tozier. Knowing and caring nothing of boundaries. Right Eds?"

“Yeah, Richie,” Eddie said softly.

Bev nodded, stomping out the butt of her cigarette. “I mean, we all know you, Richie. No surprises there.” Richie huffed out a laugh and took out his own pack of cigarettes, lighting up.

Eddie felt sick relief flood his body. He hadn’t even had time to process the hurdles. Being out. Did he want to be out? Did Richie? Was Richie even gay? He was borderline obsessed with girls and sex, always had been, and Eddie wasn’t naïve. He knew that his best friend had slept with women before. So what did that even mean for them?

“Well," Richie exhaled out a cloud of smoke. "What’s on the docket for today, my sultry ginger friend?”

"Mortal Kombat," Bev smiled. "Maybe some beers?"

"I'm beered out," Richie said. He flicked the ash off of the tip of his cigarette. "But my heart beats for plowing ass in Mortal Kombat."

"I'll tell the other fellas," Bev said. She turned and headed towards the bright red front door. "Meet you losers inside."

"Love you too!" Richie called after her. He turned to look at Eddie as soon as Bev was gone. His brows were raised carefully. "Care to explain?"

"I'm..." Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not ready, Richie."

"Eddie, they're our friends--"

"You think I don't know? You think I don't feel like shit for saying that about you? _Fuck_."

Richie frowned. He took a slow drag of his smoke. "I'll wait," he said simply. "Whatever you think is comfortable is fine."

"Are you serious?" Eddie looked up at Richie. Richie was smiling, thin and weary, but he was smiling.

"As a coronary." He stubbed out his cig on the bottom of his shoe. "I hope you don't believe what you said, Eddie."

"What?"

"About this 'just being the way I am'," Richie said. "It means more to me than that, okay?"

Eddie took Richie's hand for a quick moment and squeezed. "I know," he said. "Me too."

 

* * *

 

“BRUTALITY,” Richie roared, smashing the controls of the Sega Saturn in his hands. “BRU-TA-LI -TY.”

Bill grunted beside Richie on the couch, eyes focused on the TV in front of them. His own controler was wedged between his hands and his eyes were focused in a glare. “R-Richie, fuck yourself.”

“Gee, Bill, I’d love to and all but- ah, _FUCK_ you Denbrough,” Richie pressed his lips in a line and focused, face angry.

“It’s actually not a Brutality,” Mike said. He, Bill, Stan and Richie were smushed in on the couch. The former three had been sitting quite comfortably before Richie had demanded the couch and the console, and that was that. “I think what you’re looking for is a fatality. Try--“

“Michael Hanlon, Mr. Handsome America, I will fucking ruin you if you don’t stop talking to me,” Richie seethed.

Stan glowered. “You’re a screaming idiot, Richie.” Mike tsked and smiled, brushing back an errant curl from Stan’s angry face.

“He’s in his game mode, Stan. Plus, he called me Mr. Handsome America, so I’m just going to take the compliment from all that and walk away.”

“Let me be angry on your behalf.”

“No, you have far too much fun being angry at Richie,” Mike grinned and wrapped one of Stan’s curls around his finger. Stan smiled reluctantly.

“Blah blah, fucking blah, go get a room,” Richie groaned. “Aha, fuck you Bill!”

“W-we had a room before you showed up, Richie, y-you’re sitting in it- _shitfuck_.”

“I think it’s much more fun with you here,” Bev smirked at Richie. She was sitting on the floor, sandwiched in between Ben at her back and Eddie, who was half curled in her lap.

“I’m going to assume that you’re talking about me, and not Richie,” Eddie grinned up at Bev. She giggled, running her fingers through his hair.

“I, for one, am happy to have Richie here--“

“Shut uuuuuup, Ben,” Richie groaned. Bev wrinkled her brow and raised her foot. Effortlessly, she kicked Richie’s joystick out of his clutched hands. It skittered across the carpeted floor.

“What the everloving FUCK, Beverly?” Richie sat there, hands empty and eyes comically wide behind his glasses.

“Talk shit, get hit,” Ben said solemnly. He squeezed Beverly’s shoulder. “And here I was, on your side.”

Bill dropped his joystick, a victorious grin lighting up his features. “S-suck my dick, Rich.” Richie glowered in his seat, arms crossed.

“I call winner,” Ben smiled. “Bill, that cool? Nobody else was waiting for a turn?”

“No, all yours, B-Ben.”

“Here, hang on,” Eddie said. He scooted out of Bev’s lap and crawled over to pick up the joystick. He turned and handed it back to Ben.

“Thanks, Eddie.”

“No problem.”

“Down in front, shortstack,” Mike grinned.

“Hang on, that’s my cue,” Richie grinned, falling out of his seat on the couch and tackling Eddie to the ground.

“Richie!!”

“Baby, I love it when you yell my name,” Richie grinned, nuzzling his face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s breath hitched and Richie paused, looking up at him with one raised brow.

"Uh," Richie said, eloquently.

“Get _off_ ,” Eddie grumbled, cheeks hot. He scrambled backwards out from under Richie and stood, adjusting his shirt. “I’m gonna go get snacks.”

“Do you need a hand?” Ben asked.

“No, play your game,” Richie said, standing. “Your ill gotten game. I’ll help Eds.”

“Not my name,” Eddie said. He stalked into the kitchen. “Chips, Bill?” He yelled.

“Pantry,” Bill shouted back, eyes glued to the TV. “Off of the kitchen, back hallway. And p-pretzels, please!”

“You get a bowl,” Eddie said to Richie. He walked through the kitchen, to the back hallway, and Richie followed. “Richie, dishes are in the kitch--“

Richie shoved Eddie up against the pantry. “Shhh,” he mumbled, bending down and fixing his lips to Eddie’s.

Eddie sighed, yanking Richie back by his hair. “No, Rich, not here.”

“Nobody can see us,” Richie said. He rubbed the side of Eddie’s neck. “Just one.”

Eddie looked towards the doorway to the kitchen, frowning. “Any one of them could come in to get something, Richie. I'm _sorry_ , okay? I'm not brave like you.”

“Hey, it's okay,” Richie said softly. He ran his other hand up Eddie’s side, looking at him intently from behind his magnified lenses. “Christ, Eds, you’re so beautiful. And you are brave, dumbass, in your own way. I think you're brave every day.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, eyes wide. Richie smiled at him, an almost bashful expression. “Fuck it,” He yanked Richie in and crashed their lips together, firm and brief.

“Mmm,” Richie pulled back. He smiled. “Watching me lose at Mortal Kombat get you all hot and bothered? I knew it.”

“Maybe you just look good in that flannel,” Eddie said, the picture of innocence. He felt bold, their illicit meeting filling him with a heady sense of adventure. “Or maybe every time you open your trashmouth to talk, I’m thinking of what else you can do with it.”

Richie laughed and bent his head lower. “Yeah?” He pressed a chaste kiss to Eddie’s temple, his voice a low whisper. “There are lots of things I can show you that involve my mouth, Eddie.”

“I still can’t believe that this is real,” Eddie whispered. Richie kissed his cheek softly, and then the corner of his jaw.

“I get you. I thought I was dreaming this morning,” Richie dipped his head to kiss Eddie’s neck, sliding a hand underneath Eddie’s rumpled shirt. “Because I woke up next to this obscenely hot guy, maybe you’ve met him,” His fingers ghosted over a nipple and Eddie gasped, arching his back. “He’s my best friend and I’ve been dropping these hints, you know, but he’s clueless.” Richie brought his other hand up to rub his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip. “Tryna let him know I wanna touch that perfect ass and kiss that perfect mouth for, oh, like a century now.”

Eddie snorted, nipping at the thumb tracing his lips. “I’m surprised your best friend missed it. You’re as subtle as a freight train. He must be an idiot.”

“Don’t talk shit about him or I’ll have to beat you up.” Richie warned, laughing. “It wasn’t until yesterday morning that I decided I was gonna make a move, you know,” he said, voice dropping low. “When I woke up and you were dreaming, humping your bed and begging, ‘ _Please, Richie, fuck me_ ,’ you know, I felt like I had to oblige.”

“Then, so, why don’t you?” Eddie sighed. Casting a furtive look at the kitchen doorway, he tilted his head to allow Richie’s mouth more access to his neck.

“Why don’t I what?”

“Oblige me,” Eddie reached down and felt until he got his prize, his small hand tracing the impressive line of Richie’s stiffening cock through his jeans. Grinning at the sharp gasp he elicited, Eddie pulled the thumb on his bottom lip into his mouth. He sucked it hard, swirling his tongue around the digit, and released it after a long moment with a wet pop. Richie’s jaw was slack and his freckled cheeks were red hot, his hips undulating against Eddie’s encouraging hand. “Why don’t you _fuck me_ , Richie?”

“Jesus Christ,” Richie moaned.

“What?” Eddie whispered. A smirk curled the corner of his lips. “You think you were the only one dropping hints?”

“Eddie--“

“Oh look,” Eddie ran his tongue up Richie’s thumb, letting his eyelashes flutter. He reached behind himself and found his prize easily; a bag of potato chips, and a bag of pretzels. “Found it. Thanks for the help, Rich.” He grinned against the tip of Richie’s thumb. Richie was breathing hard and blinking fast.

“What?”

“Thanks for helping me find the snacks! You’re a true friend,” Eddie said sweetly. He kissed Richie’s cheek and carried the bags into the kitchen, whistling.

“Y-yeah,” Richie stuttered out behind him, sounding dazed. “I’ll be right out, Eds, I’m just…I’m just gonna stand over here for a second. _Jesus_.”

“Splash some cold water on your face,” Eddie suggested. “That might help.” He grabbed the dished out snacks. “Meet you in the livingroom!”

“Fuck you too,” Richie called back thinly.

“I thought you died back there,” Mike said. Eddie darted behind the couch, dropping the chips off with Mike and Stan and bringing the bowl of pretzels down to the floor. He snuggled back into Bev’s lap and she reached over his shoulder, helping herself to the snacks. “Or, more realistically, that you killed Richie and were struggling to hide the evidence.”

“He stubbed his toe,” Eddie said, grabbing a few pretzels. “I told him to suck it up and get some ice. Who’s winning?”

“Bill is,” Ben grunted, totally focused on the screen. Beverly kissed his cheek and fed him a pretzel.

“Want me to kick the joystick out of his hand?” She offered brightly. Eddie laughed.

 

* * *

 

It’s two weeks before they can have their next sleepover. They fall back into Eddie’s bed like they’ve been doing it forever; Eddie, on the inside, facing the wall, and Richie spooned behind him, arms tight, breath easy. 

_It started the same way his dreams always did. Eddie was naked, bouncing up and down on Richie’s dick like he was born to take it. All he knew was love and passion, and a fierce, boundless pleasure that absorbed him completely, from the brunette coif of his hair to the tips of his toes. He was gasping and moaning, close now, so close, so close_ __

_“Richie,” he moaned. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed. He felt Richie’s hands close onto his hips, bruise tight. “I’m gonna…I love you I lo_

_“Eddie,” Richie panted out below him. “Eds, what are you looking for?”_

_“What?” Eddie furrowed his brow. He planted his hands on his lover’s chest. “Don’t say that,” he said, feeling oddly self-conscious. He couldn’t stop his motions, rocking up and down on Richie’s cock, feeling full and hot._

_“Baby,” Richie groans, “baby baby” He digs his fingers in deep._

_“Richie, you’re hurting me--”_

_“Richie’s not here,” Richie sighs below him, “Richie’s in the crackhouse, he’s in the well, he’s in the sewers. What are you looking for?”_

_“Richie, stop!” Eddie opens his eyes. Richie has hands all over, suddenly- on his hips, holding his wrists, pinning his head in place and it isn’t Richie, not really; his eyes are unfocused and his smile is far too wide._

_“You wanna float too?” Not-Richie purrs, “You’ll float, Eddie, everybody floats. Even Richie floats, eventually.” Not-Richie rocks heavily into the smaller man and Eddie lets out a startled sound, but there are claws digging into him everywhere and when he tries to lift himself, he can feel his skin shredding like crepe paper._

_Eddie whines and struggles, but the air is too thin in his lungs and he can’t breathe, he’s choking, and Not-Richie grabs his arm, "time to float,” he says and he pulls Eddie’s limb all the way out and with rows and rows and rows of teeth he BITES_

Eddie woke up screaming, unable to breathe in or out. He felt the cold plastic of an inhaler shoved into his mouth and he sucked on it; dimly aware of his own hysterical sobbing. Richie’s frantic face swam into focus over him, blurry through his tears. “Ri-Richie, oh God, _Richie_ \--“

Richie bundled him up fiercely, shushing and rocking him. “It’s okay, Eddie. It was just a nightmare.” Eddie buried his face into Richie’s shoulder and wails, his body heaving with the force of his sobs. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“Mmmn,” Eddie wiped his face. Riche kept cooing above him, half sleepy nonsense and half reassurance, but Eddie didn’t feel safe. He knew that if he turned around he’d see something--

_a clown, a clown with Richie’s face_

\--and he sobbed again, utterly broken.

Richie rubbed his back slowly. “Eddie, where are you?”

“Wh-wh-what?”

“Tell me where you are,” Richie’s voice is uncharacteristically soft. “C’mon, I know you know.”

“My r-room,” Eddie hiccuped.

“Yeah, you’re in your room,” Richie said. He kissed Eddie’s temple. “Who’re you with?”

“You,” Eddie closed his eyes and sighed, shaky. “Richie. Richie Tozier.”

Richie nodded. “Just me?”

“Only you.”

“And I would never hurt you,” Richie mouthed against Eddie’s head like a prayer. “You’re safe in your bedroom, in your house, with only me.”

Eddie scrubbed at his eyes and nodded. “I’m s-sorry,” he whispered. Richie nodded, his face pale and worried, a beacon against the dark of his hair and the room. “I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t,” Richie said. “I have them too.” Eddie knows this too well. “We all do, sometimes,” he pressed a firm kiss to Eddie’s forehead and Eddie remembers--

_“Look at me, Eddie!” Richie is shouting and his face is just like it is now, the same expression, only younger, much younger. Eddie is nothing but pain and fear and he can’t stop turning away from Richie to the hideous abomination striding towards them across the floor of the room in the house on Neibolt Street. He cradles his broken arm and wails, trying to scramble back farther. He sees claws and It’ll be on them soon it’ll be over soon--_

_“Look at ME,” Richie yells, cupping Eddie’s cheek, forcing eye contact. “I’m right here, don’t look at It, look at me. I won’t let It hurt you, I won’t.” And Eddie believes him suddenly, fiercely, and if Richie’s wrong, well._

_He wants to go out looking at his best friend, not some shitty clown._

\--all of the times that Richie’s been the victim of some nocturnal terror that lurked in his mind. He leaned up and pressed their lips together and Richie pressed back, his thumbs rubbing the tears off of Eddie’s cheeks.

“You can wake me up every night,” Richie mumbled into their kiss. “I’m always here. Unless I’m next door, banging your mom. Then you’re gonna have to knock.”

Eddie let out a startled laugh, biting Richie’s lip gently. “Beep beep, quit talking about my fucking mom.”

“You mean fucking your mom?” Richie grinned. He thumbed away another tear. “No promises, Eds.” He reached to the nightstand behind him and grabbed his glasses. “Wanna play game gear? Or poker?”

“It’s nighttime, Rich.”

“I don’t care,” Richie said, “It’s Friday, no school tomorrow. Nothing for you to worry your fluffy little head over.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said. “I’m fine. Keep your glasses off. Just…stay?”

Richie rolled his eyes, grinning. “Well, duh. I’m not going anywhere,” he squeezed Eddie tight and Eddie believed him, right down to his core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of part one is here! I'm so happy about the feedback that I've gotten for all of this, it warms the cockles of my cold, dead heart!
> 
> Part two will be up in less than a week and, hint hint, it gets Stranger ;)
> 
> Drop me a line and let me know all of the feelings in your heart. Thanks guys xoxoxo
> 
> PS guys I know that Mortal Kombat didn't drop until November of 1994 and this is taking place in March of '94, #research, but please let me have this. MK is a loser's club game night game if I ever saw one, and all of those early gen consoles long predate my video game knowledge. Cheers!
> 
> pps thanks again for all of your kind words and kudos I literally treasure them. Till next time!


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